When in Australia
by mollymater
Summary: Hermione, along with her childhood friend, goes to look for her parents in Australia after having a fight with Ron. Warning: mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, alcoholism, etc in later chapters. Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. These are JK's characters, I'm just borrowing them for my story.
1. Chapter 1

"Hermione, Mum wants to talk to you!" Ron called up from down the stairs. Hermione sighed and put down her book. She'd been expecting this to happen for a while now, she'd just hoped it would be later and not sooner. She walked downstairs and sat at the table with Mrs. Weasley.  
"Good morning, Hermione."  
"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley. Ronald said you needed to talk to me?"  
"Yes, it's about your trip to Australia." _Knew it_, Hermione thought.  
"What about it?"  
"I know you don't want anyone to go with you, but I really must insist that someone does! You can't just go down to Australia by yourself, sweetheart, you need to have someone there with you. Don't say anything, I realize that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But I don't think you realize just how draining, emotionally and physically, this could be. What if when you get there you can't take off the spells? Or what if it takes years to find them? I know you want to do this alone, but I must insist that you at least consider taking someone with you."  
Hermione sighed and knew that there was no use in arguing with her. Today at least.  
"Yes ma'am. I'll think about it." Mrs. Weasley smiled.  
"That's a good girl. Now, will you be joining us for dinner?"  
"No ma'am, I have a few more things I need to get before I leave. But I'll be here in the morning. Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley."  
"Goodnight, dear." Hermione stood up, retrieved her book, and Apparated back to her home.

She walked into the kitchen and began making dinner for herself while mentally going over her checklist again. Clothes, check. Books, check. Wand- Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone.  
"Hello?"  
"Hermione?"  
"Maybe, who is this?"  
"Michael! I haven't seen you since last summer. How are you?" Hermione smiled as she recognized the familiar voice of her childhood friend.  
"Not too good, but hopefully getting better."  
"Oh yea, I heard about your parents. When are you leaving?"  
"Well, I was supposed to leave tomorrow, but Ron's mother is insisting that I bring someone with me, so I don't know when I'll leave." She sighed. "Which sucks, because I really wanted to leave. It's been so long since I saw them. I miss them so much." There was a silence on the other side for a moment. Then, "Well, what if I went with you? I've known you and your family since we were seven, and it's been a while since I've seen you. I could pack tonight and be ready to leave in the morning."  
"Michael, that's brilliant! Yes, that would be wonderful."  
"Great. Well, I'll see you in the morning then!"  
"See you then!" Hermione hung up the phone and continued making her dinner. That night, she went to bed with a smile on her face and, for the first time in a while, hope.

The next morning, Hermione woke up early and left a message for Michael telling him to be at her house at eleven. Then she put her bags by the door and Apparated to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was already awake and making breakfast.  
"Goodmorning, dear!"  
"Goodmorning, Mrs. Weasley."  
"Have you decided on whether you'll be taking someone with you on your travels?"  
"Yes ma'am. An old childhood friend of mine called me last night and offered to go with me. I grew up with him and I thought it would be a good idea. We're leaving at eleven."  
"Well, alright dear, if you think he's trustworthy. He is aware that you're a witch, correct?" "Yes ma'am, and he's a wizard. But his parents sent him to a different school than Hogwarts."  
"Well, alright. As long as you have someone with you, I think I'll sleep better at night." She called upstairs, "Boys! Get down here, breakfast is ready! And please be sure to wake up your sister. Though I'm sure Harry can handle that." Her last sentence had been muttered. A few minutes later, they were all sitting at the table eating. Everything was fine until Harry asked, "So, Hermione, when are you leaving?"  
"Well, I'm suppose to be meeting Michael at my house-"  
"Wait, who's Michael?" Ron was staring at her.  
"He's a friend I had when I was a kid. I see him during the summer because his parents decided not to send him to Hogwarts."  
"Why's he going with you?" Hermione glared at his disapproving tone.  
"Because, Ronald, he's my friend and he offered to come with me." Neither of them spoke to each other the rest of breakfast. Then, when she had said her goodbyes to everyone else and was about to leave, Ron asked to speak to her privately.  
"I don't understand why you're upset with me, Ronald."  
"You rarely see this guy, 'Mione, why are you taking him?"  
"Because, I told you, he offered to come."  
"Well, why not me?"  
"Because he offered first!"  
"Well, why don't you tell him to bug off and let me go instead?!"  
"Here we go again, Ronald! I am not a last resort! If you wanted to go, you should have said something weeks ago when I started planning this!"  
"But, Hermione-"  
"No, Ronald! I'm tired of you always treating me like this! I'm leaving now. With Michael. That's final." She turned from Ron with tears in her eyes and Apparated from the Burrow.


	2. Chapter 2

When she returned home she had only minutes before Michael would be there. She hurried to gather a few last minute things when she heard him arrive.  
"Hermione?"  
"I'll be down in just a minute, Michael!"  
She grabbed her bags and walked down the stairs. She barely had time to put them down before she was wrapped in a hug and twirled into the air. When Michael finally set her down, he had a huge smile on his face. But that smile disappeared when he saw the bags and smeared mascara under Hermione's eyes that meant she'd been crying.  
"Hermione, what happened?"  
"It's nothing I just got into a fight with Ron. I'm sure we'll make up when we get back. Anyways, we need to leave now or else we'll miss our flight." She smiled, but he knew she was worried. He let it go and they Apparated to the airport.  
The next few hours on the flight were spent with the two of them catching up. They literally talked until Michael fell asleep on the plane. Hermione found herself geniunly happy for the first time in a long time. She had missed Michael, only getting to see him a few days out of the summer since she spent so much time at the Burrow. She smiled as she remembered their childhood days together. The time Michael had spent the night at her house and accidentally dyed his blond hair bright red. It had taken days and a whole lot of shampoo to get it back to normal. And the time they had gone horseback riding when they were ten. She fell off the horse and broke her arm. Michael had picked her up and carried her to the stable where they called an ambulance and then held her hand the entire way to the hospital. That had been their last full summer together. Their last summer before they found out the truth about themselves are were sent to different schools. Since then, they had barely seen eachother. But she found that he hadn't really changed. He was still the young hearted, competitive boy that he had been when they were kids. But there was a side to him, one that she could barely even tell was there, that hinted at something different.  
All too soon, the flight was over. They gathered their things and hailed a taxi to take them to their hotel. The taxi ride was short and they quickly arrived and went to check in. Their room was on the top floor, much to Michael's dislike as he was afraid of heights. It was a small room containing one bed, a small table with a lamp, a TV, a chair, and the bathroom. The Ministry had agreed to help on her trip to find her parents and had already paid for their hotel room and had sent ahead an owl with money for food and the location they believed her parents to be living. As soon as they entered their room, Hermione quickly put away her things and began casting protective enchantments and charms around them. It was nearly midnight by the time they were settled, so they crawled into bed and fell asleep.  
The next day was spent planning out their next move. As were the next several. Michael was all for simply going out, finding them, and removing the enchantments. But, of course, Hermione wanted to be sure everything went right with no surprises. They spent three days planning out what to do next. Hermione probably would've planned for a week if Michael hadn't put his foot down. They left the hotel and walked down the street to the shop her parents had been working at. When she walked through the door and saw her mother standing behind the counter, it was all she could do to keep from running and hugging her. Instead she began pacing around the store, seemingly looking at the merchandise, but really studying her parents actions. She needed to find a way to get them alone so she could perform the counter charms, but there were too many people everywhere. They would have to leave and come back after closing time that night to get them alone.  
They walked outside and Hermione sat down on a bench and put her head in her hands. She had been so stressed lately that she barely ate and rarely slept. Her head was pounding. Michael had noticed her health slowly getting worse. He was worried about her. So he hailed a cab, pulled her in, and they were on their way downtown.  
"Michael, what are you doing?"  
"You need to relax. This stress is getting to you. You're taking the day off, we'll go back to the store at sunset when they close. Until then, you're not doing anything except relaxing."  
He took her hand and they stepped out into the town. The rest of the day was spent going from place to place, taking pictures, seeing sights, they even saw a play. Hermione felt as though she couldn't be happier in a million years. The only thing missing was her family.  
And Ron. She hadn't even thought about their fight since their plane had landed, but thinking about it just made her angry. She was so frustrated with him. He was just so damn stubborn! She pushed her anger away and tried to focus on those precious moments with Michael. He made her so happy, even when she was so upset about her parents and Ron. As they walked through the town, she found herself wishing this would never end. Wanting to go on like this with him forever. She couldn't remember a time she'd been happier.  
As the day passed by, the sun began to set, which meant that it was closing time. They returned back to the shop just as her parents were locking up. They began to walk down the street arm in arm, neither of them noticing Hermione and Michael following behind them. They walked about three blocks before turning and walking through an alley that lead to their apartment. Hermione and Michael, who were walking about ten feet behind them, were about to turn the corner when suddenly, the alley is filled with a bright white light and a scream rings through the air. Hermione breaks into a sprint and runs around the corner. She nearly faints when she sees her parents backed against a wall by two Death Eaters. She tried to run to them, but they were surrounded by a magical shield. She could do nothing but watch as a green light flashed from the Death Eaters wands and her parents fell lifelessly to the ground.  
Hermione began screaming. She threw herself against the shield, pounding her fists into it, trying to get to her parents. The shield disappeared and the Death Eaters went with it. Hermione scrambled to her feet and ran to her parents. She shook them, hoping, praying that there was still something left in them. But there was nothing. They were gone. Tears poured down her face. Her chest clenched as she held her dead parents and sobbed.  
Michael came up behind her, silent tears streaming down his face as well, and put his arms around her. She burried her face in his chest as her body shook with sobs of grief. In all her life, she had never known just how much pain one person could feel. And now, all the pain she had ever felt was doubled on her chest. She felt like she could die. After what felt like hours, she pulled herself together. Tears still flowed from her eyes, but she stood and spoke without a quiver in her voice.  
"Michael. Call the minister. I'm taking my parents home."


	3. Chapter 3

Within three hours, they had boarded another plane and were having her parents remains shipped to London. Hermione was quiet the whole trip back to. She didn't talk. Didn't eat. Just sat there, trying to comprehend what was happening. Her mind just wouldn't accept it. Her parents couldn't be dead. They just couldn't be. But they were. And she knew she needed to accept that. The plane landed and she was getting her luggage and in a taxi with Michael before she even knew what was happening. They arrived at the Ministry and were immediately ushered in to see the Minister. It was nearly 2 AM when they arrived. The only three people who knew what had happened were Hermione, Michael, and the Minister. They were trying to keep it quiet so Hermione could at least have a day or two of peace without people bombarding her with questions. She barely even listened to the Minister as he and Michael made plans for the funeral that was to take place the next day. She just sat there. Not talking. Not even moving.

Every few seconds Michael would look at Hermione. She had the same blank expression she had had the whole trip back. She hadn't cried since it happened. She just remained in the same state. Like a robot. Never changing. Only moving when she had to. She stayed that way when they left the Ministry. When they got in the taxi. The entire way back to her home. It wasn't until they entered her house that she collapsed on the couch. Michael was with her in an instant. He held her until her heart-wrenching sobs were quiet shakes. He picked her up and carried her upstairs to her bed. He layed her down, kissed her on the forehead, and turned to leave.

"Wait. I- I can't be alone tonight. Please stay." He turned back to her and smiled. Without a word, he climed in the bed and held her. Hermione curled into him and layed there until they both fell asleep.

_"Hermione." The same errie voice kept whispering her name. Over and over. Like a broken record. "Hermione, Hermione." She heard it, but had no idea where it was coming from. She knew the voice, but didn't know how. The room was dark. She was chained to a chair and could not move at all. It was like she'd been frozen. Then a screen appeared in front of her. The memory that had been haunting her moving across the screen, set on replay. The green flash of lights. The screams that emit from her throat, the cries that shook her for hours. Her parents dying right before her eyes, forever etched into her memory._ She woke up screaming.

Michael had woken up as soon as he heard her yelling. But she was still stuck in her nightmare. He tried to wake her, but it did nothing. She finally woke up with one last blood-curdling scream. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was before falling into Michael's arms. She shook, but didn't cry. She felt as though she was out of tears. When she finally got under control, Michael went downstairs to get them something to eat while Hermione took a shower. She let the hot water run over her body and tried to forget the memory that would haunt her for years to come. It was already late in the afternoon. That night was to be her parents funeral. It was suppose to be a small funeral, that's how Hermione wanted it. She got out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror. The past few days had not been good to her. Her eyes were bloodshot and surrounded in dark circles from her lack of sleep. She'd barely eaten and you could see the outline of her ribs and her spine, and her legs were shaking and hard to stand on. Her nails were in horrible condition from where she'd bitten them until they bled. She looked like she'd been tortured, and felt like it, too. She put on a simple black dress with a jacket and flats and tried to cover the bags under her eyes with makeup. She looked fine, but still felt horrible. She sat on the bed when Michael brought her up a cup of tea and some toast. When she was finished, he took her hand and they Apparated to the Ministry to get ready for the funeral.

When they finally got there, everything was already ready for that night. The whole ride to the cemetary Michael didn't once let go of her hand. When they got there, the only people who were there were the Minister, Harry, and the Weasleys. Ron looked into her eyes and looked away as soon as he saw her hand connected with Michael's. She felt a twinge of pain in her heart, but ignored it as soon as she remembered their fight. _What's the matter with you Hermione? _she thought to herself. _It's the day of your parents funeral, you shouldn't be feeling bad about a stupid fight with Ron. _They stood next to the grave as people took turns speaking. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had become good friends with her parents, were both crying. Hermione stood and spoke last. Her voice was strong, but her heart felt weak as she told them the story of how her parents died.

"Yesterday was the first time I'd seen my parents in a year. They had no idea who I was, no idea who they really were. Michael and I watched them throughout the day. We were following them home that night, barely even ten feet behind them. They turned a corner and were attacked by two Death Eaters." By this time, she was crying again. "I tried to catch up and stop them, but by the time I got there it was too late. I watched them kill my parents and then disappear before I could do a thing." She sat down and sobbed into Michael's shoulder.

After her speech, the funeral was over. Harry and the Weasley's came to give their condolences, but they all eventually left. Until the only ones left were Hermione, Michael, and Ron. Hermione looked nervously at the two boys for a few minutes before Ron finally said,

"Hermione, uh, can I talk to you?" She stood up and followed Ron to the edge of the cemetary. He fidgeted with his hands.

"So.. You and Michael?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that mean?"

"It just means that he was there for me when I needed someone, Ronald, nothing more."

"It could've been me."

"Oh not this again! Ron, I don't want to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting! I'm just saying."

"And I'm not talking about this with you! Michael was there for me. You weren't. End of discussion, Ronald." With that, she left him standing there, feeling even worse than before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Sorry the updates have been taking so long. Tons of school lately. -_- Anyways! Here's the next chapter:) Hope you guys enjoy it! Please feel free to review, I'd love to hear your input and criticism is welcome:)**

Hermione was slowly spiraling into depression. She just couldn't get over the death of her parents. Of course, no one could blame her. And her constant fighting with Ron wasn't helping her moods. She often found herself sitting on the couch at home, drinking tea and thinking about nothing. Literally, nothing. She couldn't even care enough about anything to care about anything.

Except Michael. He was the only one who cared, who really understood her. Sure, Harry had lost his parents, but he'd been one. Never even really knew his parents. Michael's parents had died the year before in a car crash. He understood how she felt. Weeks after the funeral, Hermione was still confined to her house. She'd refused to move, barely eaten, and rarely showered. When she did sleep, she did so on the couch. Michael was there for her. Everymorning, he came and took care of her. Tried to feed her, made sure she wouldn't waste away into nothing. At the least, he made sure she didn't hurt herself. He made her tea when she wouldn't eat and sat with her while she drank. He always drank with her, but whatever it was he was drinking, it wasn't tea. He stayed there with her all day. Sometimes, he didn't even leave at night and they would both pass out on the couch.

She didn't cry anymore. She had no tears left to cry. And she was there, but not really. Her mind was always somewhere else. Always on her parents. Always sad. It was contagious, her misery. Not a single person could walk into her house and not leave feeling ten times worse. Not even Michael was immune to it. He almost gave up. Seeing her like this made him feel terrible, and reminded him of his own parents. When they'd died in the winter the year before, he'd gone into a deep depression. He had no one except his grandmother who took care of him, but she was nearly a hundred and wasn't fully there in the mind. He eventually turned to alcohol to erase the pain. Nearly a year he was an alcoholic, and when he'd heard that Hermione was out trying to stop Voldemort, his worry just made it worse. He'd stopped drinking when he found out that Voldemort was dead and she was ok. He'd been sober for months, not even a sip of alcohol in his system. But the new dread he felt now, with Hermione in depression and his memories of his parents bubbling to the surface, well, it only took a few days before he once again succumb to the temptation of alcohol. At first, only one glass a day. But one slowly became two, which became three, which became a bottle.

Hermione couldn't help her depression. When Michael wasn't on the alcohol, he'd finally gotten her to see a therapist. She'd been seeing him for two weeks, an hour every day. He'd helped her none, aside from sending her to someone to prescribe her medication. Even with it, she couldn't help the memories of her parents from filling her every waking moment. The only days that kept her sane were those rare times when Michael wasn't drinking. He'd officially moved in with her, two months after the 'accident.' He would wake her up and make her breakfast. Instead of going for the firewhiskey, he'd make her shower and dress and he'd take her out. They'd lived together for five months, so he knew her pretty well. Sometimes they went to the library, which was still her favorite place. Sometimes they just walked around aimlessly. Once they went to the zoo. It was days like these that kept her from being completely absorbed in her depression. When she was mostly happy, he was sober, and the world seemed almost perfect.

Days like this were what made her fall in love with him. And days like this is what made her say yes when he got down on one knee, pulled out a simple diamond ring, and asked her to marry him. He'd been sober for nearly three days when he asked her, a record for him. A few months passed, most of it with Michael sober. Four months to be exact. They told no one of their engagement.

Hermione was still deep in her depression. No matter how hard Michael tried, it wouldn't leave her. Sometimes it was bearble, sometimes she wanted to die. Michael tried to help her. He did his best, but she was still depressed, and he nearly gave up. He was trying as best he could to stay away from the alcohol, but it wasn't enough. As quickly as he pulled himself off, he was hooked once again. His addiction became worse and worse and eventually got to the point where he was always under its influence. It had at least been managable when it came back. Then it turned into something that he couldn't control. He wake up hungover, get drunk, forget the rest of the day, and do it all again the next morning. Hermione pulled herself together enough to take care of them, but she hadn't a job and Michael stopped going to his. They lost her house and eventually had to move into Michael's parents old one. They had little money, and what they did have went towards Michael's addiction.

_Tomorrow, _Hermione kept telling herself. _Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow he'll be the Michael I fell in love with. Tomorrow he'll finally stop drinking. _But he didn't. And what had once been harmless drunkness, turned into anger. And then to violence. He would get angry for no reason and hit her. Tell her she was worthless. But even through the pain, through the agony and bruises and blood, she stayed. _Tomorrow, _she thought. _There's always tomorrow. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! So, here's the next update. I've decided to change a few details from the original story, so it will be slightly different than the original story that I wrote. Reviews are always helpful because I don't have a beta or anything. Hope you like it!**

Seven months after the accident. Seven months after Hermione's life went to hell. Everyday the same thing. Get up. Go to work at the cafe down the street. Come home. Try to survive Michael's rage. Go to sleep. Do it all over again the next day.

She would look down at the engagement ring on her left finger whenever she thought of leaving. She couldn't forget the way he use to be. The guy who helped her learn to ride a bike. The guy who hugged her when she left for Hogwarts and didn't want to let go. The guy who, years later, held her while she cried over her parents. The guy who would have done anything to make her smile. The guy she fell in love with. It was that guy who she thought of, not the man she was living with. It was that guy who, no matter what happened, she couldn't leave.

And then the day came when he sent her over the edge. Her lip bleeding, her arms bruised and scratched, she walked out the door and got into the old car and left. Oh sure, she knew it wouldn't last. She'd come crawling back to him as she always did. But she needed to get away. So she went somewhere she'd been avoiding for months. She went to see Ron.

When he opened the door of his new apartment, Hermione was the last person he expected to see standing on his doorstep. She looked up at him with those sad eyes that melted his heart. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she'd been crying, but that's not what worried him. He saw the bruises that she'd tried to cover with clothes and make up. He saw the gash in her lip, and he knew it wasn't from her habbit of biting it when she was thinking. His hatred for Michael grew by the second. He couldn't understand how anyone would even _think_ to hurt Hermione, let alone actually do it. He automatically moved forward and hugged her, not caring about their fights, not thinking about how he hadn't seen her in months. Both of them only thinking about that moment, right there, with eachother. He held her tightly and never wanted to let her go. She began crying in his shoulder, letting all of her frustration out through her tears. He knew she would never admit to letting anyone abuse her, she was too proud, so he tried not to say anything about it. They finally broke apart and sat on his old couch he'd bought from a sketchy wizard on Knockturn Alley that had a tendancy to change from one horrible design to another. When they sat down, it was a hideous orange with purple stitching. They sat right next to eachother, hand in hand, neither saying anything. The make up Hermione wore to cover the bruises was coming off with her tears, and it was finally too obvious for Ron to ignore it anymore.

"Hermione, why are you covered in bruises?" She tried to laugh it off, but only managed a weak choke when she lied, "Oh, Michael and I took up karate. It's this muggle form of-"

"Hermione. I know you're lying."

"Ron, I really don't want to talk about this."

"Oh, so I'm suppose to just ignore this?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you're suppose to do!"

"Well, I'm sorry Hermione, but I can't do that! After months of not seeing you, you show up at my door, covered in bruises, start crying, and you expect me to just *ignore* this?!"

"I didn't come here to be yelled at, Ronald."

"Well, obviously someone needs to do it! You need to get away from him, Hermione! I don't know what happened to the guy you were friends with, but this is NOT him!" She looked away and didn't answer.

"Hermione, would you just talk to me? I'm trying to bloody help you!"

"Well stop it, Ronald, you're not helping at all!" Her eyes were filling again with tears.

"I know he's abusing you, Hemione, why can't you admit that? I don't want him to hurt you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Michael is a perfect gentleman, he wouldn't even think of-"

"Oh, come on, Hemione! You and I both know that's not true. Look at you! You're covered in bruises. I don't know why you stay with him, Hemione, it's not like that bloody bastard is even capable of love." She snapped.

"Ronald Weasley! The people I keep in my life have nothing to do with you! The fact that you have the audacity to even say-" But the rest of her sentence was lost when Ron pressed his lips to hers. When he pulled away, there was nothing but shock in her eyes.

"I.. I should go." She turned away and walked through the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, so this is the chapter that I'm gonna start getting back to my original story in. I have made a few edits to it though, so this will be slightly different than the first Romione story I posted. And the chapters will probably be longer and maybe more often. But, as I have said, I don't have a beta, so it would be AMAZING if y'all can maybe help me out by reviewing the story:) Thanks guys, hope you like it!**

That was the last time she saw Ron. The last time she saw anyone from her old life. The night she returned from Ron's was the night that the abuse got even worse. She could no longer sleep. Every night, she woke up screaming with the nightmares that haunted her mind. She couldn't escape the abuse, even in her sleep.

Years went by with her staying with Michael, even though he was rarely sober and almost always angry. She still had hope for him. She saw that little glimmer of the old Michael in those few times he wasn't drunk. She did everything she could to keep him away from the alcohol, but it didn't help. The bruises got worse, the cuts deeper, scarring her mentally and physically. They never married. Couldn't save up the money to even get a marriage liscense. All the money went towards little food and lots of whiskey. She hated it. But she loved him, even though she knew Ron was right that he didn't love her. She loved the man who had stayed with her all those years. And she couldn't leave. This was her life now. She couldn't tear herself from it.

_Five years later... _

Hermione walked through the door into the pouring rain. She'd finally done it. Finally left the horrible life she'd been living. Her entire life had fallen apart in those five years since the battle. Her parents, killed by Death Eaters. Her friends turned away from her because she'd gone into depression after watching her parents die and being abused by her alcoholic fiance. She looked down at the engagement ring on her finger and wondered how she had gotten to this point. How her life had turned into the Hell. She flung the ring off her finger into the yard. Tears fell down her face and she barely made it to the car before she completely broke down. She sat there, sobbing, until she finally gathered enough strength to turn on the car and leave.

She didn't even know where she was going until she pulled into the driveway. It had been so long since she'd been there. The rain was still coming as she ran from the car up to the door and rang the doorbell before she could convince herself not to. A few seconds later, a familiar face surrounded by flaming red hair opened the door. They stared at eachother for a moment. His hair had gotten longer, just barely covering his eyes. He had grown taller, standing almost a full foot over her. The rain raged around her, soaking right through her clothes and chilling her to the bone.

Ron looked into her eyes, the brown eyes he hadn't seen in over five years. His heart clenched as he took her in. Her eyes were red, and surrounded in dark circles. There were bruises covering nearly every visible inch of her body. Her hair was drenched, as was the rest of her. She looked so tired and helpless. She looked terrible. And then she was crying again. She flung herself into his arms and fell apart. He brought her to his couch and held her as she cried. As she finally admitted to what he'd known for years. The abuse. The depression. The alcohol. She told him how she hated her life, how she'd thought of suicide everyday for years. And how he was the only reason she hadn't done it. The whole time, he just sat and listened, not saying anything. She talked until she couldn't any longer, and she just layed in his arms and cried herself to sleep.

Ron watched her as she slept, hundreds of emotions racing through him. His heart had nearly stopped when she had shown up at his door. She looked so helpless, so lost. He had been so angry at her for leaving him. The day she left was still scarred into the back of his mind...

_"Hermione, would you just talk to me? I'm trying to bloody help you!" _

_"Well stop it, Ronald, you're not helping at all!" They glared at eachother, two faces only inches from eachother, both filled with anger. She was obviously trying not to cry._

_"I know he's abusing you, Hemione, why can't you admit that? I don't want him to hurt you." Tears were now freely streaming down her face._

_"I don't know what you're talking about. Michael is a perfect gentleman, he wouldn't even think of-"_

_"Oh, come on, Hemione! You and I both know that's not true. Look at you! You're covered in bruises. I don't know why you stay with him, Hemione, you've only known him two months and it's not like that bloody bastard is even capable of love." That made her snap._

_"Ronald Weasley! The people I keep in my life have nothing to do with you! The fact that you have the audacity to even say-" But the rest of her sentence was lost when Ron pressed his lips to hers. When he pulled away, there was nothing but shock in her eyes. _

_"I.. I should go." Then she walked out of his life._

That was the last time he'd seen her. Months later Harry had told him that she had disappeared alltogether. Completely stopped talking to any of her old friends, absorbed in her "new life" with Michael, the bloody git. As angry as Ron was at Hemione for leaving, that anger would always be covered by his love for her. When Ron had heard of the engagement his heart broke. And now, there they were. Two souls who had been separated for so many years, each secretly knowing they should be together, neither willing to be the first to admit it. She finally awoke and looked at him. Her voice was shaky.

"Ron, I.. I'm so sorry. For everything. I should've listened to you. You were right, I should've left him years ago. I shouldn't have left you."

"Then why did you? Why would you stay with him, 'Mione?"

"He helped me so much. When I was in Australia he had willingly volunteered to help me find my parents. It was too late, of course. I sat there and watched my parents be killed. I was torn apart, and he was there to comfort me. I just couldn't leave him, it was like I attached myself to him when I lost my parents. I became depressed and he turned alcoholic and abusive and I still couldn't leave. The last time I saw you, when you called him out on abusing me, I knew you were right, but I wasn't willing to admit it. I just couldn't. And then when you opened the door earlier I was so scared you would take one look at me and tell me to get lost. I thought you would hate me for everything..." She tried to look away, but before she could, Ron had grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. He tilted her head and looked her in the eye when he said, "Hermione, no matter what you do, I could _never _hate you." And then he kissed her.

Three days had passed and Hermione would rarely talk. She flinched everytime Ron raised a hand around her. The impact of the last five years was still obviously torturing her. Often, Ron would hear her screaming in the middle of the night, but when he went to comfort her, he found her door locked. This happened many times every night, but she refused to talk about it in the morning. And then one day Ron came downstairs and found Hermione missing. He looked all over the house and when he got to her room, he saw a note.

_Dear Ron, _

_I know I've been a pain these past few days. I've been like this ever since the night I saw you last. I hoped it would stop when I left him, but if anything, it's getting worse. I think I know what I need to do, but it's extremely dangerous. Hopefully, when I return, if I return, you'll still feel the way you did when I first came to you the other day. Please don't look for me, I don't want you to get hurt. And before I leave I need you to know something. I love you Ron. I always have and I'm just sorry it took me so long to finally admit it. _

_Love always,_

_ Hermione_

The note fell from his hand. He grabbed his wand and was out the door before the note even hit the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks a lot to those couple of you who reviewed!:) It really helps when y'all do that so please feel free to review:) I welcome any criticism as long as it's helpful so that I can improve the story. The story is almost caught up to where I left off with the original, so for those of you who have read both, we're almost to the new parts.:) Hope you guys like it!**

Hermione looked around, hoping no one would see her. Leaving Ron again was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, but the nightmares were getting worse, the depression deeper, and there was only one way she could think of to fix it. She slowly walked up to the door of the house she'd left only days before. The cold October wind whipped around her and she pulled the folds of her cloak tighter around her before knocking on the door. The lights were on and she could hear laughter coming from inside the house. The door flung open and a drunk man stumbled into the doorway. He looked at her and yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Michael, your bitch is back!" Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly inside the house.

She looked around at probably about 10 men and women, all drunk. The sight of Michael, the man who had been her fiance not even a week earlier, with two drunk girls on his lap just made the anger inside Hermione grow. They got off him as he stumbled over to Hemione. He dropped the bottle of firewhiskey he'd been holding, grabbed hold of Hermione and dragged her into the kitchen. His breath stank of alcohol and he held his face as close to hers as he could. Hermione's hand held her wand behind her back, but she didn't make a move.

"Where the hell have you been, girl?" His words were slurred.

"As far away from you as possible."

"Now now Hermione, that's no way to treat your fiance." She laughed and spit on his shoes.

"You, sir, are not my fiance. You're nothing but a lying, cheating, alcoholic-" Her words were cut off by his hand stinging across her face. She fell to the ground and felt tears forming in her eyes. Her hand held onto her wand even tighter.

"Don't you _dare_ say those thing to me ever again, you filthy little mudblood. Forgetting who took you in? Who held you while you mourned for your _dead muggle_ parents? Who cared for you all these years, huh? Who loved you even when-" She stood up and began yelling.

"Loved? _Loved?_ You never loved me. You cheated on me, you lied to me, you _abused_ me. You did a lot of things to me, Michael, but don't you _ever_ say that you loved me." She drew her wand and pointed it as his throat. The look in his eyes turned to that of pure terror. She could feel the energy coursing through her veins, the need to end him. End the cause of all her suffering. But, then again, there was that little voice in the back of her head saying this was wrong. Telling her that she was better than this, better than him. Why should she kill him when she could turn him into the police? But, then again, why should this monster be allowed to live? He would've killed her, if the situation was reversed, he'd threatened her with death enough. But there was still that little shred of sanity left inside Hermione. That one little strand of hope that was holding on and fighting with everything it had. She knew she couldn't kill him, she'd never been capable of killing. But she wanted him to pay. For the suffering. For the abuse. For each slash she had made on her wrist trying to escape his pain. He deserved to be punished. But she never got around to it. For, in those very seconds, the door was flung open and in barged a certain Weasley who was very, very angry.

He knew he would find her there. He knew her too well. Her mind would never be at rest until Michael had paid for what he did, but Ron hoped he would be there in time to stop her from doing something she would regret. He ran into the house, pushed past the group of confused drunks, and finally stopped in the kitchen where he saw Hemione holding her wand against Michael. The three of them stared at eachother for a second. Ron looked at Hermione's face and saw the red mark where Michael had oviously hit her and he lost it. There was a loud bang and Michael was thrown across the room right against the wall. He screamed in pain, but was silenced by Ron's fist connecting with his jaw. And that's when chaos errupted.

Michael's drunk friends had finally figured out what was happening when they heard his scream. They all ran into the room, flailing their wands and casting spells everywhere. Curses were cast in every direction, not even caring who or what they hit. None of them had very good aim, being drunk and whatnot, but a few spells did take effect. Ron was levitated into the air and Hermione's body was frozen by the body-binding curse. A few of the drunks had been hit by their own curses and were strewn about the kitchen in various conditions. Michael, who had been laying on the floor, finally got up and stumbled over to Ron. He was upside down, but could still see the smug smile forming over Michael's face.

"Didn't think this one through, eh Weasley? Thought you'd just barge into my home and rescue your slutty little friend? No. She isn't going anywhere. She's going to stay here. With me. And you're not going to do a thing about it, Weasley. Know why?" He paused and his smile grew even bigger. "Because starting now, you don't have a clue who she even is. _Obliviate!"_ The spell hit home, and Ron's world went black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for me to update. I'm planning on going to the AWA Convention in Georgia in September and I've been working pretty hard on planning that with my friends and such. ANYWAYS. Here's the next chapter:) Hope y'all like it! Please review and tell your friends because I don't have a beta, so any help is appreciated. :D**

_Two weeks later..._

Ron woke up in his bed to the sound of his alarm clock. For some reason, he felt as though there were something important he needed to do, something he had forgotten, but then he quickly dismissed the thought and carried on getting ready for work.

The past two weeks had been hell for Hermione. The spell Michael had cast on Ron had worked perfectly. When he woke up in Michael's kitchen, he was told that he had passed out drunk and completely believed it. He hadn't even looked at Hermione when he got up to leave. And as soon as he was gone, it started again. The abuse. The alcohol. The yelling. He had grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to an upstairs bedroom, unfroze her body, but silenced her so that no one could hear her scream, and tied her to the bed. And then she would lay there, waiting for the occasional plate of stale food that would be brought to her twice a day, only when Michael wanted something from her. He would come in and force the food down her throat. Occasionally, when he was really drunk, he would simply yell for a minute or two before passing out. But usually, it was much worse. He would hit her, kick her, throw things at her. Anything that would cause her pain and make her life miserable. She tried to stay strong. Tried to remember that there were people out there who were friends with Ron, who would realize something was wrong with him and try to fix it. But then she realized that he rarely saw anyone anymore. And she lost all hope.

Her weight had considerably dropped. Barely even 100 pounds. Her eyes were swollen almost completely shut and they were surrounded in dark circles. Her entire body was bruised and sore. She didn't even care anymore. She would see Michael enter her room through her swollen eyes, and just let him do what he wanted. Sometimes he yelled. Sometimes he hit. Sometimes he did both. Sometimes he raped her. And then she would just lay there in misery, waiting for the next assult. She had lost all desire to live. She tried choking on her food, but that just ended in Michael yanking it from her throat and not eating for another day. She even tried cutting her wrists again, but the only thing around her that was sharp enough was a nail poking out of the bed frame, and even that wasn't enough. She prayed that if there was a god out there, that he would have mercy on her and just end the pain. She couldn't take it. She was going crazy.

Then, one day, Michael stumbled into the room once again. He was obviously almost too drunk to even stand. He crawled to Hermione's bed and began slurring the words of some song as he fumbled with her clothes. But she had cracked. Finally lost it. With all the strength left in her body she raised the lamp on her bedside table and threw it at his head. The impact made him fall to the ground instantly. His breathing stopped, his chest didn't move, his mouth was slightly open and had blood dripping out. He had drunk too much, and was already about to die from alcohol poisoning. Hermione had just helped speed up the process. She took the rope that held her to the bed and began scraping it against the nail that stuck out of her bed. It cut at her skin, rubbed it raw, but it eventually cut her loose. She jumped from the bed and ran out of the house, wandless and starving, without looking back.

That night she walked to London. It took her nearly twice as long as it should have. She reached the Leaky Couldron where the bartender just barely recognized her and continued to bring her food until she could finally eat no more. When she fell asleep at the table the man behind the counter picked her up and brought her to a room upstairs. She only woke up with nightmares once.

When she awoke the next morning she found a tray of food with a note telling her not to worry and that everything was already paid for. The sun had only just begun to rise when she finished the food and slipped through the gateway into Diagon Alley. She knew she had to find Ron, but she would be no use to him without a wand. So the first place she went was to Olivander's, who had reopened a few months after the war. She walked through the door and was automatically filled with the memory of her first, and only, time in the store. The memory actually brought a smile to her face, the first real smile in a long time.

"Miss Granger?" She turned and saw the familiar face and gray hair of Mr. Olivander.

"Goodmorning, ."

"Why are you here? Is the wand you recieved when you were eleven not working?"

"Well, that's the thing, sir. I seem to have lost it and I need another one." He obviously didn't believe her lie, but he began looking for another anyways.

"Ten and three quarters vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core was your original wand, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right." He pulled out a wand from the huge piles of boxes.

"Very similar wand here, only it's eleven inches. Give it a whirl." She picked it up and immediately felt the same pull she'd felt when she was eleven. She paid for the wand, left the store, and started on her mission to free Ron from his erased memory. First stop: library.


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the next installment! Sorry it's taking so long, I'm really busy, it being the end of the school year and all. I'm very sorry, but I should be updating more often once the school year is over! Anyways, I hope y'all like it! Please don't forget to send me your opinions/criticism. **

For the first time in a while, Hermione proved that she really was the brightest witch of her age. Within thirty minutes, she'd found the spell and other things she needed to cure Ron. Only there was a problem... Wiping minds was a tricky business that didn't always work. All of his memories of her had been taken, and without some sort of memory of her, there would be no way to bring them back. But memories can't really be taken. Only blocked enough so that the person doesn't realize that it's a memory. She had get him to remember just one memory of her, and then the spell would work and he would remember everything. But there was no sure way to make him remember that first memory. Every person was different. Some remembered easily, some were more difficult, some never remembered at all. She only hoped that he wouldn't be in the latter...

And then there was the problem of even getting near him. She couldn't just show up at his door, that would never work. The only way to get to him was to befriend him again. And to do that, she needed someone who knew him better than anyone. Harry.

For the past few years, Harry had been completing his Auror training. He'd only been allowed to visit home for one week once a year and could only send and recieve two letters a week. He had just finished his final year of training and was officially an Auror, but he had no current assignment. So he was staying at Grimmauld Place, as he usually did when he wasn't training. She walked up the steps, knocked on the dorr, and braced herself for any anger he might have, since she'd completely written him off for the past few years. He opened the door and stared. His glasses were ascew as always and his hair was even messier than usual. He'd grown a lot over the past few years and stood nearly a foot above her. He looked older, especially his eyes. They were still the same bright green, only they had an almost sad look to them. She smiled at him, hoping he wasn't too angry. He looked at her for a few more seconds before beaming at her and pulling her into a tight hug. She hugged him back, finally realizing just how much she had truly missed him.

"Hermione, where have you been? We've been worried sick about you. Have you heard from Ron? No one's heard from either of you in so long."

"I know, and I'm sorry. It's sort of a long story.."

"Well," he said as he ushered her into his house, "you'd better get talking, then." The next few hours were spent in Harry's room with Hermione telling Harry (almost) everything that had happened the past few years while he'd been away. Through the whole story, Harry just sat there listening. She told him everything up to the part where Ron barged into Michael's house without crying, but that's when she lost it.

"He- he came in to save me. But instead," she said between sobs, "Michael and his friends got to him first." Harry gasped and took her hand in his, wanting to comfort the girl he'd always considered his sister. She half-cried, half-laughed before continuing. "But they didn't kill him, oh no. That would've been far too easy, and not enough punishment for me." She hiccupped. "No, instead they wiped his memory of me. Every memory, every thought, every moment that he had involved with me, gone. He looked me in the eye and had absolutely no idea who I was." Her voice dripped with disgust. She looked up at Harry with sad eyes.

"Harry, I need your help. I know how to restore his memory, but I need him to have the faintest idea who I am first. Do you think you could help me get him to remember?"

"Hermione, I know that you need to help him. And I promise you, I'll help. But you've been through so much over the past few years. I think that before I help you with him, you need to find help for yourself. These problems aren't just going to go away, 'Mione. And you're not going to be able to focus on helping Ron if you're still caught up on your past with your parents and Michael."

"So, what are you saying?" Harry sighed.

"You're not mentally here right now, Hermione. You need someone to help you get back on your feet. I'll re-introduce you and Ron so that he can get to know you again, but I cannot allow you to try to fix his memory until your mind is working as it use to." He picked up a card off of his counter and handed it to her. "This is the number of the therapist I went to for a while after the war. Call him. Schedule a few appointments. You can stay here with me." She took the card from his hand and hugged him again. It was late and she'd had a long day. After saying goodnight to Harry, she climbed the stairs to his spare bedroom and fell asleep.


End file.
